To Survive
by A Touch of the Blues
Summary: "Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without." The story of how Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark grew back together after the rebellion. Will be as canonical as possible except for how Peeta returned to District 12.
1. Waking Katniss

A/N: Hello there. This is my first attempt to write in the Hunger Games fandom and so I would appreciate constructive criticism where needed. This is the story of how Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark grew back together after the rebellion and their return to District Twelve. This type of story has been done before so I'm sure there will be some similarities between mine and other author's versions. However, I hope to keep this as original and canonical as possible. Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated and looked forward to. I love 'em! ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. All rights go to Suzanne Collins.

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**To Survive**

**Part One: Home**

**Chapter One: Waking Katniss**

I wake up from my dreams screaming of bombs and fire, mutts and roses. Roses. My stomach clenches to think of the sickly stench of mingled roses and blood coming from President Snow. The paradox those two things represent to me would be comical under different circumstances. The beauty of roses masking the nauseating smell of fresh blood. How fitting that it would be the president of Panem who would be identified with such a combination. Panem itself is just such a paradox. Presented to the rest of the world as a brilliant bastion of lights and technology, progress and prosperity. Roses. But underneath the mask of beauty there was blood, so much blood. For decades, perhaps centuries, the districts were crushed under the iron fist of the Capitol.

I think of my father, who was crushed in the coal mines when I was just eleven years old. He was crushed so badly that there was nothing left of him to bury. He was crushed by the Capitol just as all the districts had been since as long as anyone could remember. The Capitol had so much blood on its hands. Blood beneath the roses. And as my mind wanders once more to the thought of roses, my stomach begins to lurch as I remember the brilliant light form the bombs and the noise they made as someone made the decision to drop a bomb on a fourteen year old girl; my sister, Primrose Everdeen.

I want to cry. I want to sink down into the couch and never be seen again; to never have to see anything again. The thought of Prim perishing in a cloud of smoke and flame when she didn't even have to be there is just too much. She shouldn't have come to the Capitol; there was no reason for her to go. Who in their right mind would ever send such an innocent child into the front lines of battle where the outcome was almost certain death? It is at that point that the irony begins to sink in for the first time.

The only one who could have made that decision was Coin, President of District Thirteen. She's the one who sent my sister to an early grave. After everything that had been done to break free from the Capitol, after all the lengths people had gone through to be different from the people who ruled the country for so long it was the leader of the opposition who ultimately became guilty of the same thing she had accused the Capitol of being so guilty of: Using children as pawns in her games. And that, I suppose, is why I killed her and not Snow. It doesn't matter. I made my decision to shoot President Coin and President Snow had died anyway; either by asphyxiation or by crushing. Either way, they were both dead.

And now, sitting here on this couch I begin to wish once again that I had joined the two presidents and simply died. How much easier that would be! If I could just die then I wouldn't have to think about Prim or my mother, who I haven't seen in nearly two months because she can't bring herself to return to the place where she used to have a somewhat "normal" life. I wouldn't have to think about my forced exile in this place where so much of my life was spent in anguish. Of all the punishments they could have imposed on me for assassinating the new president they chose the harshest one of all: Life in District Twelve.

Here I have nothing. No father, no mother, no sister; only the memories of the two people I loved the most. Memories of starvation and fear on every Reaping Day; memories of panic and a forced romance to be gawked at by the entire country; memories of finally believing that my nightmare was over, only to be sent back into the Hunger Games where the Capitol was certain that I would die. But no, I was forced to keep living even then. When I was first sent back to Twelve there was almost nothing left from the firebombs that consumed nearly our entire district. Today, some people have come back to rebuild and try to start all over again but it isn't the same. I wouldn't know for sure since I haven't left my house since I got here but how could District Twelve ever be the same after all that happened here?

And now the tears come. Tears over all the poor people who died during the attack, who couldn't get out in time. Tears over all the ones who perhaps tried to escape and saw the planes coming in just before they were blown away. There were so many of them. Madge, perhaps the only school friend I ever truly had, who gave me the mockingjay pin on Reaping Day that had become the symbol of the rebellion; she was gone, and her whole family as well. I think of Lady, Prim's pet goat who never stood a chance. The Mellark's, Peeta's father and mother and his older brothers. I remember how Mr. Mellark gave me cookies after I had been Reaped and assured me that he would look after my mother and sister to make sure they were eating. Mr. Mellark had once hoped to marry my mother long ago. He could have harbored resentment against me, the offspring of the man from the Seam who he couldn't compete with. But no. No, he vowed to take care of my family even though I was going in to an arena to kill his son. And at the thought of Peeta Mellark I simply lose it.

I can't bear the thought of how he was tortured for months by the Capitol. How the boy with the bread, who saved my life more times than I can count, who loved me unconditionally despite myself, had been forever altered by those twisted Capitol scientists. I knew of course, that Peeta was still alive. But the Peeta I knew, the handsome, thoughtful boy with his winsome words who caused the entire nation to fall in love with him during his interviews, who ensured that I would have sponsors in the 74th Hunger Games by making me seem desirable, who teamed up with the Careers and fought off Cato in order to protect me, to help me win, would never return. No, the Capitol had managed to take him away from me too through their hijacking, the implanting of false memories within his mind that caused him to hate me.

I haven't seen Peeta since I had shot Coin. They hadn't allowed me to see him before or after my trial and he has yet to return to District Twelve. I doubt he ever will. I'm vaguely aware of the lightening sky marking the early passage of night to day but I don't care. This day will proceed the same way it has for the last month and a half. Greasy Sae will come over at 8:00 to cook me breakfast and I'll sit there staring blankly at the meal she prepared. She'll tell me that I have to eat and that I ought to take a shower or go hunting, or both. I'll pick at my food and take a few bites to appease her and then she'll leave. Or perhaps she'll do some cleaning since I won't do any myself. Greasy Sae has long since removed any knives, forks, just about anything sharp that was lying around the house out of fear that I might use it to cause some harm to myself.

Perhaps Haymitch will stumble over drunk and tell me that I look terrible. When I don't respond he'll stumble out the back door grumbling and cursing about who knows what and I'll just sit on the couch and stare off into space; maybe take a nap and wake up form some other terrifying dream. At 7:00 Greasy Sae will return, maybe with her young granddaughter and cook me dinner. She brings news and the occasional gossip from town. Things like who has moved back to the district or who has moved in from another area. She seems quite interested in this because inter-district travel was forbidden before the rebellion. There's talk of building a new factory in the district that would create jobs and stimulate the economy but I don't care. How could I? I don't need a job; I have more money than I'll ever need and who would hire me anyway? I'm the town lunatic, holed up in her house like some side show.

But deep down I wish I could…do what? Talk to someone? Complain to someone? Cry to them? Tell them all my troubles? Perhaps that is what I do need. But who is there? I could talk to Sae of course. She's here every day like clockwork. But could I actually bring myself to speak? There's Haymitch. But he'd probably be passed out or too drunk to be of any comfort anyway. And the thought of Haymitch Abernathy being comforting is laughable even in my deluded state. I haven't answered a single one of my mother's letters or phone calls. I haven't spoken to Dr. Aurelius, the Capitol doctor into whose care I was assigned as part of my treatment and conditions for not being sentenced to prison or death. I should call him. Sae tells me it would help.

I think back to a time before all of this mess. Before the war and rebellion, before the Hunger Games. There was a time I carried on somewhat normally. Who did I talk to then? And then my stomach clenches again as I think of his name. Gale Hawthorne. To be honest, I haven't thought about Gale much since returning to Twelve. He and his family managed to make it out of Twelve before the place was bombed and Gale became an integral part of the rebellion. He also might have been the reason my sister was killed, those bombs being very similar to the ones Gale had helped design in District Thirteen. I know he never would have sent Prim into the Capitol and that he had no way of knowing that his creation might be used to snuff out my sister's life; but I can never forgive him for his near indifference to my pain afterwards.

What was it he said?

"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family."

I bristle at his self-absorption. How could he be so worried about his romantic standing with me when I had just lost my sister, the entire reason I had volunteered for the Hunger Games and ended up in this mess to begin with? I just wish…and at this point I'm done with wishing. There's nothing realistic to wish for. My family is either dead or never coming back to Twelve, my sanity seems to have perished, my best friend, or so I thought, may have been partially responsible for my sister's death but was too concerned about his own standing to comfort me, and the only person left who I'm sure was always acting in my best interests, Peeta Mellark, is thousands of miles away quite possibly never to be seen again. And my heart aches when I think that even at that last moment, the last time I ever saw Peeta, he saved my life again. He stopped me from taking the nightlock pill. He put his hand in its place and endured a fierce bite from my mouth.

I have no other choice but to get up and stumble to the bathroom where I kneel down over the toilet and wretch. Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, has burned out.

xXx

When I wake up I find that I've been draped in a thick, red blanket and that my head is resting on a small pillow. Oddly though, I'm still on my bathroom floor. I look out the window; it's bright outside. Greasy Sae must have already come by and found me lying here after my vomiting episode. Deciding that I might as well stand up I glance in the mirror. What a rude surprise I get.

I haven't bothered to look in the mirror or even bathe in the last three weeks. So seeing my reflection for the first time was a bit of a shock. My dark hair lays about wildly atop my head, frayed and uneven in places because of the bombs. Parts of it are matted and I vaguely register what my old Capitol stylists would think if they saw me like this. My normally olive toned skin is abnormally light and sallow, probably from the lack of sunlight. My bones are more prominent than they've ever been in my life, even during the darkest days after my father's death and my eyes have a sunken quality to them. The vain part of me regrets that I've let my body fall into such waste. I look almost nothing like that night on Caesar Flickerman's show where my dress transformed into a brilliant flame and Peeta first professed his love for me. If only Peeta could see me now, he might not be so quick to kiss me anymore.

And my heart sinks even further as I realize that I miss Peeta more than almost anyone else. But what would I do with him if he were here? I guess it depends on which Peeta we're talking about; mad, damaged Peeta or the sweet and generous Peeta from before the war. Knowing him, if he were here, he would want to spend time with me for some mysterious reason fathomable only to him. He might want to hold me or kiss me or maybe even something more. And a small part of me wishes he would just show up and tell me what he wants and I'd be willing to give it to him. But the rest of me is still in shock over all the things that have happened since Prim was blown up. I feel so confused.

And then I'm hit with a novel idea. I'm going to take a shower. It would be my first one in weeks and it sure would surprise old Sae when she returns this evening. Peeta wouldn't want me to waste away; neither would Prim. So I step into the tub and revel in the warmth of the water as it hits my body. The steady jets are soothing on my flaky skin that has been neglected since my return to District Twelve. I'm supposed to be applying liberal amounts of skin cream and salve to help with my scars. But I haven't. If I had I probably wouldn't even _have_ scars right now. Oh the miracles of the Capitol's vanity.

It's while I'm shampooing my hair that it hits me. Another brilliant idea. I'm going to go outside today; better yet, I'm going to hunt. At first I wonder how I could ever come up with such an idea. Then I realize that it's Peeta. The shampoo's aroma reminds me of the shampoo Peeta would use in the Capitol just before our first Games. In fact, it may be the very same brand. When I step out of the shower to dry myself off I take another look in the mirror. There is only slight improvement. I appear to have washed away the growing level of grime that had coated my nails, nose, and lips; but my ribs are far too prominent. And although it makes me blush at the thought, I notice that certain parts of my anatomy that I'm sure Peeta would have loved to have seen at least once are nowhere near their original proportions. I seem to have shrunk overall and the thought that Peeta risked his life so that I could keep living makes me determined to regain my weight for his sake, even if I never see him again.

So at 10:30 I make my way out the back door dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans left over from the Capitol and a brown top. The jeans had once been very form fitting, accentuating the curve of my hips but they feel loose today because of my weight loss. The sun shines brightly overhead and I can hear birds singing contentedly, oblivious to the disaster that has wreaked such havoc on our area in recent years. The air is warm and there's not much of a breeze. By looking around at the trees that are still very full and green I gather that it is probably early of mid spring. April or early May

My walk towards the forest goes unnoticed since few people live in District Twelve in comparison to before the war. Ours was always the least populated district anyway. So I'm not stopped by anyone wishing me a good morning or congratulating me on surviving the war. No one sees me head towards my old stomping grounds with my bow in hand and arrows slung across my back. It is better this way; I can't handle too much interaction anyway. I've only seen three people since my return: Haymitch, Sae, and her little granddaughter. The metal fence that for so long blocked our district off from the forest has been torn down, no longer electrified, no longer anything. All that remains are a few pieces of twisted metal laying strewn about the grass here and there.

My mind goes back to my first time slipping through the fence after my father died. I was so afraid, so utterly terrified that I would be caught. But I never was. Only one time was I ever trapped in the forest and that was when the new, stricter peacekeepers had the fence electrified. That was the day I hurt my ankle, the day things really started to go downhill. Now there are no more peacekeepers, no fence, no ban on hunting, no Hunger Games. Life would be good if it wasn't so bad.

Before stepping completely in the woods I stop short. I haven't been back here in a year. There are so many memories; memories I'm not sure I want to relive. Memories of me and Gale hunting and trapping together, of Gale ranting against the authority of the Capitol, of the two of us working together to feed our families. I remember Gale asking me to run away with him, to leave District Twelve behind; I remember when Gale caught me by surprise and kissed me after my first Hunger Games. But Gale is gone now. Whatever might have existed between us was destroyed as assuredly as my sister was destroyed by those bombs. He's off in District Two with a fancy job and probably some glamorous young woman. And all for the best. It's less complicated with Gale gone. So I take a deep breath and then cross the threshold to the green world that was for so long my home away from home.

Within five minutes I realize that my personal neglect has affected me badly. I missed two birds I should have easily been able to kill. My first kill is a rabbit that on an ordinary day I would have shot clear through the eye. Instead, my arrow pierces its neck and there's some flailing around before it goes still. Minuets pass, then hours. I've lost track of time and figure it's time to head back home. The trek back to my house in the Victor's Village is made more difficult since I have a full pack of rabbits and squirrels to carry as well. But I'm comforted by the thought that I am still able to hunt; and I'm sure Greasy Sae will appreciate a full bag of fresh game.

I refuse to walk past the old area that used to serve as a sort of black market for District Twelve. The Hob. I remember all the times I traded in there; it's what kept my family alive for years. The Hob of course, no longer exists. It too was blasted away by the Capitol and apparently there's no need for it anymore. But my heart sinks a little when I remember how Gale and I would team up for our trades.

It takes about a half hour to walk back home and when I get there I see that Haymitch is outside my door sitting on a chair. He looks both smug and a little distraught so I decide to approach cautiously.

"Well I'll be damned" he says. "I can't believe you're out and about sweetheart."

Haymitch has definitely been drinking. I can smell it on him as I get closer.

"Well I figured it was time to do something" I say back.

Haymitch just smirks and says "I think that's the first time I've heard you speak since you got here. And you've _showered_ too. Well, who'd have thought you'd get so far in one day."

I'm not quite ready to deal with Haymitch's sarcasm so I start to walk towards the door without another word when he stops me, holding out his arms so that I can't pass. I look at him questioningly and he is wearing a look that says I had better brace myself.

"He's coming."

"Who?" I ask.

Haymitch wipes the hair from his eyes and gives me a long, penetrating stare.

"Peeta" he says finally.

My mind is reeling. Peeta's coming I repeat to myself. Is that good or bad? I've longed to be able to speak to Peeta since Prim was killed but never got the chance. I've dreamt about him; about losing him, about finding him, about taking care of him and stopping the torture. Every night I sleep on the couch because I'm afraid that if I go upstairs to my own bed I will be reminded of how Peeta and I shared a bed on the train to the Capitol. I've wanted Peeta to be here for as long as I've been here but at Haymitch's word I'm suddenly afraid of what will happen. Will it be the old Peeta or the deranged one? Surely they wouldn't send Peeta back here if he was mentally unstable; but they sent me back here so who knows? Will Peeta hate me for all that I put him through? For leading him on during our first Games, for pretending he didn't exist for months after our return to Twelve, for allowing him to be captured and tortured by Snow, and for not trying to contact him once in months?

All these thoughts whirl through my mind but oddly, I ask Haymitch a sensible question.

"When will he be coming?"

"Friday" he says, "at 10:00 am."

"And what's today?"

Haymitch's eyes narrow. "Wednesday."

I need more information so I say "And what time is it now?"

Haymitch checks his watch and slurs "Three o'clock."

So I have about a day and a half before Peeta returns. I decide that for the next day and a half I'm going to do everything in my power to clean myself up. If for no other reason than I don't want Peeta to be anymore distressed when he gets here than he needs to be. Even if he no longer thinks of me in a romantic way I doubt his kind nature would be able to take the sight of Katniss Everdeen falling apart at the seams.

"Ok" I say. "Thank you for telling me." But there's something that pulls at the back of my mind, something I need to ask Haymitch.

"Have you been in contact with him all this time?"

Haymitch has already gotten up to leave but stops halfway down the front steps. He turns to me and says "Somebody had to answer his phone calls." With that, Haymitch walks off towards his own house.

My phone has been ringing ever since I got here. Was Peeta trying to talk to me? Did I shut him out just like all the rest? I vaguely register that my phone hasn't been ringing as often lately. Has Peeta stopped calling? Does he think I want nothing to do with him? Suddenly I'm filled with a vast range of emotions so I go inside, slam the door and toss my game bag on the kitchen counter before falling onto the couch to crash.

When I wake, the clock on the wall says 6:00. One hour before Greasy Sae returns for dinner. I register that I haven't eaten anything since the bit of scrambled eggs and bacon from breakfast that was wrapped up for when I left the bathroom so I'm pretty hungry. But more importantly, it's time for me to take another shower so that I can be as presentable as humanly possible for Peeta's arrival. I'm not quite sure why it's so important that I look good for Peeta. In an ordinary situation someone might say it's because I have feelings for him. And I do. I'm just not sure what those feelings are. So I content myself with saying that I just don't want Peeta to worry about me.

I take longer in the shower this time, washing away the scent of the forest and trying with all my might to clean every inch of my body. I almost wish my prep team were here to beautify me but then I stop short at the thought of Cinna. Cinna, the secret rebel who made me a national star with his flawless designs and who swore that he was betting on me to win. Cinna, who was beaten bloody before my eyes and then executed for his troubles. If Cinna were here he could make me beautiful; I know I could talk to him. But Cinna is also gone so I busy myself with scrubbing in between my toes.

Afterwards, I lather on the skin salve I was prescribed for my burns and scars. I'm surprised when I immediately feel a sense of relief pass over my skin. I know that this is good for me. I slip into a pair of white silk pajama bottoms and a matching top that feels so welcoming on my skin. I've made a point to tuck my wet hair behind my ears in an effort to look more put together and the effect of my appearance is such that when Greasy Sae arrives just five minutes after I get dressed she stops what she's doing and stares at me.

"I don't know what possessed you to do all that" she says "but I sure am glad to see you get cleaned up. You look gorgeous."

I know she's trying to be nice because I certainly do not look gorgeous, but after examining myself in the mirror after the shower I agree that clean hair and skin and fresh silk pajamas do wonders in making me appear less ugly. What a minute. Ugly? I was never a very feminine girl even when my father was alive although his death definitely hastened by journey into being what you might call a 'tomboy.' But I never thought that I was ugly. I just didn't worry about trying to make myself look good like so many of my peers. Obviously I was attractive enough that Gale was interested in me. Peeta proved time and again his love for me so I guess I must have something going for me. But the trials of the last two years have taken their toll on my looks and not bathing for weeks at a time hasn't helped either. But hopefully I'll be able to come back somewhat and look halfway normal. I'll try at least.

"I brought you some fresh game" I say, motioning to the bag on the counter. Sae looks around in mild surprise but only nods and says "That you did."

She busies herself with skinning and gutting the meat and then wrapping it up to place in the freezer. Then she sets to cooking up some beef and potato soup.

Sae continues to look at me in mild surprise as I eat the soup without protest, even filling up a second bowl for myself. It's the most I've eaten in who knows how long; I've forgotten just how good food is when you're enjoying it.

"Girl, what has gotten into you today?" Sae asks.

I gulp down my soup hungrily and wipe my lips carefully. "What?" I say.

The older woman, who by now must be in her mid seventies, shakes her head before speaking.

"You have barely moved an inch in nearly two months and haven't turned on that shower in almost as long. You barely eat the food I make for you and you hardly ever say a word. Now all of a sudden you're clean, you're eating, and you've gone hunting. What changed?"

"Peeta's coming back." I didn't mean for that to be my answer. I was going to say something about how I thought that Prim wouldn't want me to be miserable forever and that I couldn't let President Snow win. But no, the return of Peeta Mellark is what comes out as my reason for my sudden change in attitude.

"Oh, I see" Sae says with a smile.

"What?" I ask, somewhat more fiercely than I intended.

Sae just chuckles to herself and begins to wash the dishes. "Oh nothing" she says. "I'm glad the boy is coming back here. There's a shortage of good bread. It's just not the same when I make it. Sweet young man like him has been missed around here."

I don't know if Sae is referring to her need of good bread when she says that Peeta has been missed or if she means some of the teen girls who have apparently moved back in; but the thought of ditzy young girls talking amongst themselves about missing Peeta makes me irritated for some reason.

"Do you know when he'll be here?" Sae asks me.

"Haymitch says Friday morning at ten."

Sae nods. "Then I'll be sure to come by a little earlier Friday night and cook up a big dinner. Try and shoot a deer tomorrow and I'll make some venison stew. Should be nice for a welcome back dinner."

I nod, the reality of Peeta's imminent arrival starting to really sink in.

"Oh" says Sae, "and you might as well invite that mentor of yours. Someone probably needs to feed him too."

I smile for what seems like the first time ever. But it's actually a welcome feeling. In just 48 hours I'll be having dinner with Greasy Sae, Peeta Mellark, and Haymitch Abernathy. It almost feels like that's the way it should be.

The rest of the meal passes by enjoyably enough and Sae and I talk about the rebuilding of the district. I actually find this somewhat pleasant even though I've shut most of it out for the last month or so. Several families have moved in from District Five to start over fresh and a few of the originals have also returned. Delly Cartwright decided to remain in District 13 which has been moved back above ground and about six families from the Seam have returned. Starvation has not been a problem since the fall of the Capitol to the rebels; everyone in the district has been on a relatively even playing field and most are able to hunt or grow their own food.

I ask Sae how she's been surviving and she tells me about the butcher's shop she's opened in town, close to where the Mellark's old bakery used to be. When I ask her where she got the meat from she says "You're not the only one in town who ever hunted illegally." I smile at this and wonder who taught Greasy Sae how to hunt.

After Sae finished drying off the last of the dirty dishes, I thanked her for looking after me the last couple months.

"Don't thank me Katniss" she says dryly. "It's the least I can do. You've been through a rough couple of years; even longer since your dad died. But I do hope you'll start taking care of yourself better. It doesn't do to see a strong young woman like yourself waste away from despair."

I nod and promise her that I'll start to do better. She nods as well and sends a conspiratorial wink my way.

"That boy must be something special if he can pull you out of your haze and still not even be here."

My ears and cheeks burn at that comment but I don't say anything in response. I've already blurted out enough about Peeta today.

Sae chuckles and packs up her things. "Try and clean this place up a bit before he gets here" she says to me. I nod and she starts to head out.

Before she closes the door she turns around slightly and says "I'm glad to see you're finally awake Katniss." After that she walks out and closes the door behind her.

I stare after her for some time before I realize that for the first time in months I actually feel awake, alive. It's hard to describe but after existing in a semi-catatonic state for weeks on end I feel very much alive and energized. I go to sleep that night on the couch with my mind and heart racing with thoughts of recovery, rebuilding, and getting reacquainted. Perhaps the Girl on Fire still has some sparks left.


	2. Madly In Anger with the World

A/N: I thought I'd post the next chapter today to get the ball rolling with this story. It's still early but I thank all those who have reviewed or are following this story (all two of you!). If this chapter seems to jump through different emotions quickly it's for a purpose. Katniss isn't going to be completely normal just because Peeta's back. Hopefully you all will enjoy it. Also, I wanted to include a little hisotry so I took what little is mentioned about history in the first Hunger Games book and took it from there. What I say about it reflects the attitude of Katniss and not necessarily my own. You'll see.

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**Chapter Two: Madly In Anger with the World**

I can't believe a day and a half has passed so quickly. In just an hour's time I'll be walking with Haymitch to the train station waiting for the arrival of Peeta Mellark. I promised myself on Wednesday that I would do my utmost to look presentable for Peeta and I really have tried. I've taken two showers a day, gorged myself on Greasy Sae's breakfasts and dinners, made sure that I ate a good lunch each day, washed all of my nicest clothes, and have even gotten my hair cut by the new District Twelve stylist who came all the way from the Capitol to set up shop. I like her. Her name is Isabel and she's not much like most of the Capitol people I know; she reminds me more of Cinna who, although born and raised in the Capitol was very much an ordinary person, lacking the pompous styling's and effects so common in that part of the country.

Isabel recognized me instantly as Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, but she didn't ask any questions about why I looked so different from how most Capitol citizens remember me. Perhaps, like Cinna, she knew just how grueling my life had become since Reaping Day almost two years ago. So instead of asking how my hair got into its messy, uneven state, she went about working wonders with her scissors and blow-dryer, applying surprisingly little product. When I asked her why she wasn't trying to turn me into some sort of Capitol clone she said "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

I'm surprised to hear that she doesn't think I look broken. I certainly think I do. But she just continued snipping and spraying and drying until finally my hair looks as good as it's ever looked outside the Capitol.

"There" she says. "You look lovely."

And I do. My hair is now shoulder length and styled in such a way that I don't even think I'd be able to tell that it had been uneven. Its volume has increased so that it doesn't look as though I'm just wearing a horse tail on my head; my bangs have been blended with the rest of my hair and it falls down like luxurious curtains with a part down the middle. I smile slightly because for the first time in a long while I think that I actually look decent.

I thank Isabel for her work and she replies that she's up for cutting my hair any time. So now I'm waiting anxiously in my kitchen for Haymitch to come over so that we can walk together to meet Peeta. This morning I feasted on a delicious ham and peppers omelet and I think Greasy Sae is near giddy that I'm eating so much now. Of course, nowhere near enough time has elapsed for there to be any substantial weight gain; but in just the few days since I learned of Peeta's return I've noticed that my stomach seems to bulge just slightly. Hopefully soon the weight will distribute to the rest of my body and not settle only in my stomach.

Before long Haymitch arrives and he's surprisingly sober. I guess he takes Peeta's return just as seriously as I do. Haymitch pauses to take in the sight of me and for a moment I become very self-conscious. I'm relieved when he says "Maybe there's hope for you yet kid."

So together we head off into town to await the train that will bring Peeta Mellark back into my life. I have to admit I'm a little frightened. The last months I spent in Peeta's company were very difficult with him alternating between his ordinary self and the Capitol's maniac version. Peeta even tried to kill me once and even though I know it wasn't really him, the memory of it sends chills up my spine. I don't know what to expect when I see him. How will he look? Will he be strong and fit like he used to be? Or will he be just as thin as I've become? What will he expect from me? Friendship, love? Companionship, romance? Everything or nothing at all? It's the unknown that scares me more than anything since I don't know what I'm willing to offer Peeta either.

We went into the Hunger Games together and we both saved each other's lives more than once. There's no one else who's been through so much of the same terrible things with me like Peeta. Not my mother, Prim, Gale, or even Haymitch. No, Peeta and I share a unique bond. I would like to be Peeta's friend; in fact I think I might break down if Peeta rejects me as a friend. But how far am I willing to take things with him? It's no secret that Peeta wanted more. But do I? Truthfully, I don't know. I must have kissed Peeta hundreds, thousands of times even, for the Capitol cameras. But that was all staged, an act to gain sponsors so that we could get out of the Games alive. Or to try to convince President Snow that I wanted no parts of the burgeoning rebellion. But then I think back and remember that perhaps it may not all have been just an act.

It certainly wasn't for Peeta. He one hundred percent wanted to be the loving couple the Capitol presented us as. And there were two times that I can specifically remember wanting more than the phony kisses I staged for the Capitol audience. Both happened during the Hunger Games; our first Games and the Quarter Quell. The first one was in the cave. I can clearly remember the warm sensation that spread through my body and the yearning I had for more exploration before Peeta stopped me because of my injury.

The second and last time I felt that feeling, that desire for something more, was on the beach during the Quell. Everyone else was asleep and Peeta had revealed he was willing to give me everything, including his own life so that I could return home and be rid of this nightmare forever. He was even willing to forfeit his romantic attachment to me so that I could go home and live happily with Gale. His words still haunt me today.

"Your family needs you Katniss. No one really needs me." And what was it I said to him?

"I do. I need you."

And then I kissed him. I initiated it. But instead of it being a fake one for the cameras, I really felt it. I meant what I said to him. I did need Peeta. And when our lips met on the beach I knew that there was more meaning behind it then there had ever been before. Any kiss I'd shared with Gale had been nothing compared to this. I was hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food.

So there was something there. But the question is, would that something, whatever it was, still be there when Peeta arrives? Gale is gone. There's no one to interfere with us now. But I'm still confused and I really don't know how to handle these emotions so I force myself into a conversation with Haymitch.

"How does he sound on the phone?"

"About as good as he ever did. They wouldn't be sending him here if they didn't think he was safe enough to interact in ordinary society."

This is a good thing I tell myself. "Has he explained to you what his treatment has been like?"

Haymitch chuckled darkly. "Not in any detail, no. But it's no easy task to reverse a person's memory once it's been reversed already. What Peeta experienced in the Capitol was more torturous than you and I could ever imagine. I doubt he'll ever be completely cured. They probably have him on some high powered drugs among other things."

And again my heart breaks for Peeta. Why did someone so sweet and loving have to be forced to endure such barbaric tortures? I want nothing more than to throw my arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder. But the last time I threw myself at him he tried to strangle me so I don't think that's the best idea.

As we near the train station I stop in the middle of the road and Haymitch turns around to look at me.

"What is it?" he asks.

My heart is pounding so fast I'm afraid I might go into shock. "Haymitch" I begin. "What if he's not the same? What if he hates me because of all he's been through?!"

And it starts to come out, bubbling to the surface. My true fear is that the boy with the bread will turn against me. Not because of some wicked torture of the Capitol's but because he's made a conscious decision. Very few people would blame him if he did reject me. He had a crush on me for years and I never paid him any mind. After he admitted his crush in front of the entire nation I went ahead and slammed him into a wall accusing him of trying to sabotage me. In the Games I dropped a Tracker Jacker nest on him, although admittedly I didn't know he was trying to protect me at the time. I faked a romance with him without telling him that it was fake; I led him to believe that I actually returned his feelings when I was really just using him to gain sponsors. I avoided him for months after our return home and spent my time growing closer to Gale which surely pained Peeta to no end. And to top it off I never even answered his phone calls when he was in some hospital thousands of miles away from home. If I were in his shoes I would reject me.

But I feel like if he does I'll just die. I might even be sent into a worse downward spiral than when Prim died. All of this spills out of me and so Haymitch has no other choice but to wrap his arms around me in an attempt to soothe me.

"Shhh, listen" he says. "It's going to be fine. That boy is not going to reject you sweetheart. To think that he will is doing him a disservice. He's about the most upstanding person I know. He won't leave you; you're his life."

And I look up at Haymitch wondering how Haymitch knows that Peeta said those exact words to me before. Then I remember that it was during the Games so the whole country probably heard it. A few people have stopped to see what all the commotion is about and I realize that I'm making a scene. So I disentangle myself from Haymitch and mutter a choked "thank you." Haymitch pats my back lightly and motions for us to move on.

The rest of our journey passes by in silence and when we arrive we're ten minutes early for the train. Haymitch leans against a column and looks out into the distance before he starts to speak.

"I wonder sometimes what our lives would be like if those wars never happened."

His comment is kind of vague so I ask him to elaborate.

"The wars" he says. "The ones that happened centuries ago."

I realize he's talking about the Great Territory Wars that nearly caused the end of human civilization. They briefly gloss over these wars in school but some of the older folks who remember a time before the Dark Days still tell stories about what they learned before the Capitol instituted such heavy censorship.

About four hundred years ago the Great Territory Wars erupted after a series of events that led to disaster after disaster. There were skirmishes within nations after necessary supplies like food, water, and oil became scarce. The climate was changing and the oceans had started to rise in many coastal regions, covering once prominent cities with feet of water. Yet, in other places, it was not water but unbearable heat and fire that scorched much productive and fertile land leading to famine. Droughts that spread across hundreds and hundreds of miles caused widespread death of people, animals, and plant life.

Overpopulation became a problem. The national governments were unable to provide adequately for everyone within their borders, especially once the disasters started. Skirmishes within nations quickly became skirmishes _between_ nations. Large scale wars erupted between nations who fought over available territory that had become so precious since much of the land had been consumed by fire or water. Eventually, nuclear weapons were used and in some cases entire countries, entire ethnic groups were obliterated, wiped clean off the map. Countries that had the largest populations survived better than the smaller ones. But even they lost much land and people.

There were five major surviving powers. Most of their names have been lost to time, at least in this part of the world, but it's said that two of them lay off in the far eastern part of the world. The smaller areas that were not completely destroyed were forced to become dependent on these larger places for support. In this part of the world, one of the surviving powers was called America. But it too eventually splintered and broke down until rebels living in a mountainous area called the Rockies became powerful enough to wrest control from the central government that was located, oddly enough, not far from District Twelve. The new government called itself Panem, which means 'bread' in some language long since forgotten. That was the point. The original leaders of Panem, the rebels who took down America, promised the people food. Bread. And hunger won out. Thus, Panem was born.

The rest of Panem's history has been recorded at length by Capitol historians for centuries. But I wonder why Haymitch has brought this up.

"Why are you wondering about those?" I say.

Haymitch shrugs. "I just wonder how life would have been different. Would we even be here if circumstances hadn't forced our ancestors to move around? And if we would still be here, how would our lives be different?"

It's an interesting question I'll admit but it seems an odd moment to ask such a question. I've never known Haymitch to be so introspective so I'm somewhat at a loss for words.

"Well…I guess it doesn't really matter much does it? The wars did happen so there's no point in wondering about what if's."

Haymitch smirks and says "Guess not." Then he's silent.

While we wait for Peeta I can't help but wonder how my life would have been different if I hadn't been born in Panem. What if the old order had survived? What would I be doing right now? In what way would things be different? Would they even be much different? It would be easy to look back and long for some bygone years where things seemed better but the one thing I've learned from the Great Territory Wars is that our ancestors were a very selfish people. Wasteful and self-concerned. If a problem wasn't staring them in the face they didn't want to deal with it. That's how the disasters started. That's what led to the wars. I've never really thought much about my ancestors. I never knew any of my grandparents and I think my mother only knew one of her grandfather's. But suddenly I'm concerned about what legacy future generations will be left with.

There are no more Hunger Games. Panem is transitioning from being a dictatorship into a republic. I'm told that's the form of government that existed in this land before Panem. What will my children be forced to deal with when they're my age or older? And suddenly I stop because I remember I'm never having children. I wonder why I forgot that? It couldn't have anything to do with Peeta could it? And I can't help but smile slightly as I picture Peeta with a little boy that looks exactly like him: Golden blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Any child would be fortunate to have Peeta as their father. But there's a chance Peeta will never get to have them. I refuse to bring children into this awful world and if Peeta wants me then children are out of the question. Will Peeta even be able to father children in his condition? I don't know but I certainly hope that whatever Peeta wants, he gets. He deserves it.

I'm snapped out of my daydream by the sound of a loud whistle signaling the arrival of the train from the Capitol. I take a deep breath. Peeta is on that train. Any minute now he's going to walk off and see me for the first time in months. I'm so nervous right now my legs are shaking. Haymitch pulls me lightly by the arm and leads me closer to the platform so that we'll be more visible. There are surprisingly more people getting off the train than I had anticipated. Why are so many people interested in coming to District Twelve? Then, not more than thirty seconds after the train came to a stop a tussle of blonde hair appears by one of the side doors.

As he steps down from the stairs he seems to be looking around as if looking for something. Is he expecting me? No, it must be Haymitch. Haymitch must have told him that he would be waiting for him at the train station. After what seems like an eternity, Peeta notices us standing a few yards away and his face brightens into that happy look I had grown so accustomed to before the hijacking. He speeds up his walk and I notice he has a slight limp; the consequences of losing his left leg from our first Hunger Games. I hope his prosthetic isn't bothering him too much.

When he gets about five feet away from us, Peeta drops his bags and lunges at me. I'm about to scream because I think he's going to try and strangle me like he did in 13 but instead he wraps his arms around my waist instead of my throat and pulls me into a tight embrace.

"Katniss! I'm so glad to see you here; I've been worried sick about you! They had me medicated throughout your trial so I barely knew what was going on and then before I knew it you were taken back to Twelve. I tried calling you but there was never any answer. And then Haymitch told me how you were so depressed after Prim…"

Peeta unwraps himself from around me only to cup my face softly in his hands.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

It's such a simple question but I find that I've become lost in the sapphire orbs that are his eyes. I've forgotten just how vibrant they are up close and I wouldn't mind if we stayed in this position for a while longer. My face in his hands and my eyes locked onto his. But I nod slowly and whisper "Yes. I'm glad you're home."

And I am. It's strange though. I haven't thought of District Twelve as my home since before I destroyed the force field in the Quarter Quell; and that was before I lost Prim. But all of a sudden I'm reminded of more comfortable times as Peeta holds me here so that maybe I really can think of this place as home again.

Haymitch clears his throat pointedly although he has a slightly knowing smirk on his face. Peeta gives me a sweet smile and then moves over to Haymitch and offers his hand. Haymitch takes it but is unexpectedly pulled into a tight hug by the deceptively strong Peeta. Haymitch looks as though he's experiencing the pangs of death itself while locked in Peeta's embrace but slowly, he pats the younger man's back. I work hard to stifle a laugh at the sight. I know Haymitch has always gotten along better with Peeta than with me. Haymitch stayed in touch with Peeta before and after I assassinated Coin. He answered Peeta's phone calls while I moped around my house for over a month. I think Peeta has become something of a son to Haymitch; or maybe a nephew of some sort.

I let out a very soft laugh, almost nonexistent, as I gaze at the sight of the two men in my life: Haymitch Abernathy, the surly, drunken victor of the 50th Hunger Games, who carried on deception after deception in order to keep me alive; and Peeta Mellark, the multi-talented boy who put everything on the line to save my life more than once, who has made me feel things I didn't know it was possible for a girl from the Seam to experience. It's a strange world we live in because I'm suddenly happier then I've been in what seems like an eternity. After spending all my spare time crying and thinking of ways to kill myself I am now determined to keep this moment fixed in my mind forever.

Peeta relinquishes his hold on Haymitch and turns back to me.

"You're hair looks different."

I raise my eyebrows at him. He didn't say he either liked it or hated it; only that it was different.

"I got it cut" I reply. I neglect to mention that I did it because I didn't want him to see me in my deplorable condition.

Peeta nods and says "I like it, although I miss your braid; that was kind of your signature, you know? But I think you look amazing however you style your hair."

And there it is. Peeta has a way of saying the most complimentary things without a shade of embarrassment. It's as if he's unafraid to fall flat on his face and fail miserably. Meanwhile, I turn an interesting shade of red at his compliment and fumble with the proper words to thank him.

"I, um…" Think Katniss, think!

"I'm glad you like it. I cut it because of you." Great. It's true, but I didn't exactly have to tell him that flat out. Peeta looks surprised for a moment but then he breaks out into a warm smile. Haymitch decides it's time to stop talking and head back to the Victor's Village where Peeta's empty house is waiting for him. I go to help him pick up his bags  
but he waves me off with a flick of his hand and says "I've got them Katniss; you don't have to carry anything."

I take Peeta's hand in mine and say very clearly "I want to. You just got back from the Capitol after being gone for nearly a year. Let me help you."

Peeta looks at me carefully as if trying to decide something but then smiles and hands me a bag. I feel relieved that Peeta hasn't had one of his flashbacks yet and that he's willing to let me help him. After all the times he's helped me it feels good to do something for him.

Our trio makes its way back to the neighborhood that's occupied by only Haymitch and me with Peeta just about to move back in. I wonder how long the Victor's Village will continue to be exclusive to Hunger Games victors. With the Games outlawed and a new government in power, it would be strange to continue to abide by any of the old laws related to the Hunger Games. Peeta asks about what's been happening in District 12 and so Haymitch proceeds to fill him in on who has moved in or moved back and what the plans are for the District's future. Peeta expresses interest in rebuilding his family's bakery and I feel sad knowing that not a single one of his relatives has survived. It's just Peeta; all by himself.

When we arrive at Peeta's house, number 3 Victor's Lane, Haymitch says something about having to go check on the geese and leaves the two of us standing outside Peeta's front door.

"Do you want to come inside for a minute?" he asks me.

"Sure" I say back.

Peeta opens the door that has been unlocked since before the war and together we take in the sight of his dusty, empty house. It has a barren feeling that unsettles me a bit. My house seems unlived in only because I've barely moved from my living room couch since I've been back. The rooms upstairs are still packed with personal effects that I haven't bothered to use since I've been back. But Peeta's house is completely silent and unnaturally empty; it doesn't fit Peeta's attractive personality at all.

"It needs some work doesn't it?" Peeta remarks.

"You just need to put a little bit of yourself into it. In a few weeks this place will be screaming Peeta Mellark."

Peeta laughs and I laugh with him. It's very comfortable, laughing with Peeta. There's been so little to laugh at lately that I'm beginning to think Peeta's return may be the best thing ever to happen to me. We set his bags down on the floor and I move to help him unpack but he stops me short.

"No. I can do it. You don't need to do anything Katniss; you've done enough already."

I don't agree and I tell him so, seeing how all I did was carry one bag.

"Just being there to meet me meant the world to me Katniss. You really don't have to go out of your way to help me."

"It isn't out of the way" I protest. "I want to help you. I…"

I what? I want to stay here with him? I want to cry into his chest and have him tell me everything will be alright? What _do_ I want? From the moment I was told of Peeta's imminent return I've been holding on to some glimmer of hope that maybe things can return to normal. Well, as normal as they can be. But I realize now with him here that I'm not entirely sure what I want. The days and weeks that I've pondered over our relationship and what exactly it is and isn't have all led to this moment: Peeta's return to 12. That's as far as I ever allowed my mind to go because Peeta wasn't here. I didn't know if he would ever return, so every thought or daydream I had of the future culminated in him returning here. What came beyond that was a mystery.

Peeta just stands there silently waiting for me to continue and I feel foolish for seeming so confused. Finally, I steel myself and tell him "I haven't had much to do since I came back. So if you don't mind I'd really like to keep busy."

For a moment I think Peeta might reject my offer again; that he might insist that I go home. But instead, he says "Ok then. You can help me unpack _and_ set things up." There's a faint hint of amusement in his voice, as if he enjoys the idea of having me work for him. But I won't really be working for him; we'll be doing this together.

So for the next twenty minutes Peeta and I unpack the contents of his travel bags and go about arranging them in piles according to function or purpose. His toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, towels, and other grooming needs he takes upstairs into the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom which he will be occupying. In another pile are brightly colored paints, paintbrushes, pencils, and a particularly fancy looking camera that I don't remember him ever owning before.

"What's this?" I ask, holding up the camera.

"Oh, that was one of my parting gifts from Dr. Aurelius's staff. I was in their care for a while and some of the nurses got kind of attached to me, being a fragile nutcase and all. It also helped that I was a Victor and the tragic lover of the Mockingjay. So they thought that in addition to painting I could maybe take up photography as an art form. It's all the rage in the Capitol to be a photographer and I thought it was a very nice gesture so I took it."

At the mention of the words 'lover' and 'Mockingjay' I wince a little, as if those words are actually capable of causing me harm. But I let it pass and smile as warmly as I can.

"That was very thoughtful of them."

Peeta seems not to have noticed my consternation so he just continues on with his story.

"Oh yes. You'd be surprised how normal the people at the medical center were; the staff I mean. If I didn't know I was in the Capitol I never would have pegged them as being Capitol citizens. They were just like regular people. By the way, Dr. Aurelius wants you to call him. He says he can't pretend to treat you forever."

There's a part of me that wants to ask what kind of treatment Peeta experienced under Dr. Aurelius but an even greater part of me doesn't want to know. I don't want to imagine Peeta being hooked up to machines and being force fed powerful medicines that altered his mind. So I go back to setting up the piles.

Peeta has brought surprisingly little with him back home. Just some clothes, his art supplies, toiletries, and a stack of books that have fancy sounding medical titles.

"Light reading?" I say jokingly while holding up a particularly massive tome.

Peeta rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I got into the habit of reading the medical textbooks they had there. Some of it is actually quite interesting once you understand the basics."

Most people from the Seam never had books in their homes. We were taught to read at school and some of the wealthier families may have had Capitol approved books of some sort; but most people could never afford the luxury. I can remember my mother telling me as a little girl that her grandfather remembered a time when there were these grand libraries that housed literally thousands of books. Books about history, cooking, animals, plants, and even books about people and places that were not even real.

"These were all left over from before the Wars" my mother had been told.

Eventually the Capitol decided that allowing the Districts to possess copies of free-thinking literature was dangerous and so introduced heavy censorship of anything that was not approved by the Capitol. Possession of an unapproved book was punishable by death.

Suddenly I'm quite upset at Peeta for bringing these books back to 12 and I toss the one in my hands onto the floor carelessly. It makes me angry how the Capitol controlled every aspect of our lives for so long while they reveled in all the luxuries of prosperity. There a young child could hope to possess a book without fearing that they would be arrested for treason. Those books Peeta brought back came from the Capitol, and their very presence disgusts me.

This time Peeta notices the change in my emotions and he looks at me curiously.

"Is there something wrong Katniss?"

Wrong? Of course there's something wrong. The whole world is wrong! I know I shouldn't be angry at Peeta just because he has some Capitol books but my emotions, so fragile since the Reaping Day so long ago, threaten to boil over furiously. All the joy I felt over Peeta's return is evaporating and I'm in danger of simultaneously crying and screaming in frustration.

It just isn't fair! The Games, the starvation, the poverty, the politics, being used as a pawn in some perverse games; the knowledge that so many people died because of the Capitol's brutality and that I was right in the center of it simply because I was trying to survive. Yes, it all went downhill when Peeta Mellark confessed his love for me on national television. Why couldn't he have just kept that to himself? Why couldn't I have simply been ignored by the Capitol and left to die in that first arena? The moment he told the country how he felt about me I was forced into an imaginary world of fake romance, lies, and deception. And I couldn't get away from it. Even after the Games I was forced to perpetuate the lie that Peeta and I were in love by a vindictive president bent on snuffing out an as yet unrealized rebellion.

And all the anger, all the sadness, all the raw emotion I've felt over everything that's happened starts to come out. Pretending to be something I'm not for the Capitol, the bombing of 12, Boggs with his legs blown off, Finnick being devoured by angry mutts, and Prim being blown to bits; all of this happened because of a foolish confession of Peeta Mellark's.

Deep down, I know it's illogical to be angry at Peeta, to blame him for any of this. When he said he loved me that first time he was only being honest; he was actually trying to help me, to make me desirable so that I might have a better chance at winning the Games and making it out alive. But my mind is not ruled by logic at the moment so instead I'm shaking with rage at all the injustices I've been forced to experience. All the injustices others have experienced because of their association with me. And one way or another, it all goes back to that night on Caesar Flickerman's show where Peeta Mellark told the world that he was in love with Katniss Everdeen.

So I let out a scream and glare menacingly at the confused boy next to me. And suddenly his eyes turn glassy and a look of pain shoots across his face, followed by rage. Peeta squeezes his eyes shut and grips the closest piece of furniture he can find, a sofa. He falls onto his knees and then the floor looking as if he's having some sort of seizure. I open my mouth in terror as I realize what's happening. Peeta's mind is being hijacked because of the menacing treatment of Katniss Everdeen. What the Capitol wanted Peeta to believe all along has become a reality.


	3. Now That You're Here

**A/N:** Hi there! This is chapter 3 and I want to say thanks to the seven who are following the story at this point and the two who have reviewed. However, if you are reading this story at all I would like to request that you please drop a review as well. I like to hear what other people think, even if you think it sucks. A good review will motivate me to write faster, a bad one will motivate me to re-evaluate what I'm doing.

Again, thanks so much for your support and I hope you like chapter 3!

P.S: For some reason when I upload a chapter the site tells me that there are WAY less words than there actually are. I can assure you there are more than 1,263 words in this chapter.

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**Chapter 3: Now That You're Here**

Before I even get to my house I know I've made a big mistake. I behaved outrageously. Peeta did nothing wrong, nothing to merit the harsh treatment I gave him. First my thoughts had turned bitter and then my face and my voice. And for what? All because of some stupid books that Peeta brought home to read. I slam the back door behind me and run to the couch that I have made my makeshift bed and begin sobbing. I really did it this time. I don't think I've ever behaved so outwardly malicious to anyone before. And of all the people I could have been angry at, why had I directed my frustrations at Peeta? He didn't deserve it. He had just gotten back home for crying out loud! What a despicable person I am.

And then my body tenses because it wasn't that I just screamed at him or shot him an ugly look. It wasn't that I simply got upset over nothing; I caused Peeta to have one of those tracker jacker induced flashbacks. After Peeta was captured by the Capitol he was tortured for months. His mind and body were subjected to the worst kind of mistreatment. Beatings, starvation, electrocution. But what may be even more disgusting was the mental torture the Capitol performed on him.

They injected into his blood tracker jacker venom. Tracker jackers are genetically enhanced wasps whose venom is extremely poisonous and can cause incredible pain and nausea, as well as unimaginable hallucinations. I know the effects well because I was stung by some of them during my first Hunger Games. But Peeta was injected with this venom for months on an almost daily basis. While in his system, the Capitol fed Peeta horrible lies about me; the nature of our relationship, the nature of my relationship with Gale, that I was manipulating him, was trying to kill him, and even some more outlandish things such as that I wasn't even human but a mutt designed to destroy him. Their tortures had caused Peeta, who had once been head over heels in love with me, to go insane anytime I was near.

Peeta was beyond suspicious and distrustful of me. He _hated_ me; tried to kill me even. It took weeks of therapy after his rescue for him to be able to even be in the same room with me without immediately losing his mind and trying to murder me and even then, he would often turn into two different Peeta's, arguing with himself about whether I was really dangerous or not. I was heartbroken to see what the Capitol had done to him and I knew that it took every ounce of strength he had to resist the urge to fall into one of those flashbacks of false memories. That's why it took him so long to return to 12; he had been undergoing therapy all this time. And because of my foolishness, because of my blind anger, I had caused him to have to go through yet another one of those horrible things. To relive those false memories that probably broke Peeta's heart.

I don't know how I ever could have done that; but the fact is I did it. But what's even worse is that afterwards I didn't even help him. I could have gone to him, held him, soothed him. Even if I just remained in the room waiting for him to return to normal in order to apologize it would have been something. But no. No, I ran away like a selfish coward. I have no doubt in my mind that Peeta hates me. If he didn't before he certainly does now. Friends don't abandon each other like I just did. It's ironic. When I woke up this morning I was all concerned about whether or not Peeta would accept me, whether he could move beyond the Capitol's lies and be friends again. But I'm the one who turned on him. Today I did the very thing President Snow accused me of doing to Peeta all along.

I decide that I can't take it anymore and so I quickly grab my bow from the closet in the living room, pull on a light jacket, and run for the woods. What I'll do there I don't know. Hunt I suppose. When I'll return I don't know either. Perhaps never. Maybe I'll live in the woods and survive off plants and wild game like Gale wanted a few years ago. I don't know what I'll do. All I know is that I have to get as far away this place as possible; as far away from Peeta, Haymitch, Greasy Sae, anyone who will judge me for the hateful person I really am.

As I begin the run from the Victor's Village to the woods I hear a voice in the background.

"Katniss! Katniss!"

It's a man's voice. Probably Haymitch. He probably went to check in on us and found Peeta lying on the floor. And with me running away it looks very suspicious. I don't look behind me but continue my sprint away from everyone, away from civilization and into the forest where I can hate myself in peace and quiet.

I don't stop running for a long time and when I finally do stop I'm clutching my side for the pain in it. I slump down on the forest floor to catch my breath. It's only after I've been sitting down for almost five minutes that I realize I don't know where I am. I've been hunting in this forest for years on my own and even longer with my father. But during that time I never strayed too far from the fence that used to surround our district. Oh sure, I'd strayed far enough in the past. But it was never wise to travel too far off. There are no clear paths and it was always best to get back through the fence in a hurry if you came across trouble. Today I seem to have penetrated into the woods farther than I ever have before and it only adds to the burden that this day has become. I'm lost.

I don't immediately panic. After all, I'm armed. I can take down any animal that tries to hurt me, save maybe a pack of wild dogs. There's no threat of being caught by the Capitol or Peacekeepers and I can't have been running forever. I don't recall taking very many turns while running so I'm not terribly confused about the path I took either. All in all the fact that I don't exactly know where I am is the least of my worries. What I'm more concerned with is what will happen when I get back? Because I thought it through while running. I can't stay here. I've been banished to District 12. If I'm gone for too long word will get out that the Mockingjay has escaped and then there will be search parties and I'll probably be hauled off to some Capitol prison for violating the terms of my exile. No, eventually I'll have to go back. And I can just picture what will happen when I do.

Haymitch is standing on his porch yelling loudly, a heavy bottle filled with clear liquid swinging dangerously form his hands.

"Way to go genius! You've managed to turn the one person who was always on your side into your enemy! You succeeded where even the Capitol failed! Let's hear it for the Mockingjay!"

And in my mind Haymitch is replaced by Greasy Sae who looks careworn, a look of disappointment playing out on her face.

"I can't believe you could be so heartless Everdeen. That boy's done nothing but love you and all you've done is stab him in the heart. Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

And suddenly Sae is replaced by my mother who looks at me sadly and shakes her head saying "Your father would be ashamed of you."

And then there's Peeta. Blue eyes replaced by dark ones, a wild look claiming his once boyish features.

"I knew it! I knew you were a mutt all along! You tried to kill me! I hate you Katniss, I hate you!"

And I'm crying. Because I can't take all of this. Everything that's happened to me since the 74th Hunger Games has all been too much for one person to bear. Most people saw me as a piece of meat to be dressed up and toted around before being thrown into an arena to be bludgeoned and burned, or stabbed and attacked by wild animals. Or if they were form 12 they saw me as just another unfortunate reminder of the Capitol's invincible power over the Districts. But then the rebellion happened and I was practically forced to take on the role of Mockingjay while the President of District 13 plotted to get rid of me before I caused too much trouble. And as Mockingjay I had to visit the battle scarred people and places of the war. I had to be the face of the rebellion that everyone else could rally around. More times than most people experience in a lifetime I was thrust into kill or be killed situations.

I volunteered when my sister's life was at stake. I held a dying twelve year old girl in my arms as I sung her to her everlasting sleep. I was forced by people in power to single handedly stop an uprising before it even began and after I had done everything I could to meet the demands it still wasn't good enough. I'd lost my father, temporarily lost my mother, lost my sister, more friends than I could even count, and apparently my grip on reality. Did anybody ever stop to think that maybe this was all a bit much for a sixteen year old girl to handle? Yes, I was sixteen when I fought in my first Games. Seventeen when I did it again. And not quite eighteen while being the face of a thirteen district rebellion against centuries of tyranny.

I didn't mean to hurt Peeta. I wish more than anything that I could take it back. But inside I'm falling apart because there's no one left to care about _me_. My tears feel warm on my face and I don't know long it is before I pass out.

I'm sitting in a brightly lit room that is strangely devoid of any decoration. In fact, there are no windows either. Just white walls and white lights. But no, something's wrong. I'm not sitting. I'm lying down. I move to get up but I can't. There's something that's keeping me in place. My eyes travel to what restrains me and I see thick dark straps that are wrapped around my arms, legs, and middle. I'm lying down on some sort of bed and I'm strapped in against my will. Somewhere off to the left a door opens and I can hear the sound of footsteps.

Several people in white uniforms, their faces blocked by surgical masks, stand above me and begin to hold down my head as I start shaking violently. I try to scream but the only noise I can make is a horrific guttural noise like some dying animal. I realize that I no longer have use of my tongue. I no longer have a tongue. I've been turned into an avox. Before I know it, needles are being jammed into my arms and I can feel a burning sensation travel throughout my body.

Then there are hallucinations. My vision becomes distorted and I can see all sorts of terrible things. A mine explosion, Rue being struck with a spear, the sound of Finnick's death, the noise of bombs going off nearby. Prim's cry of "Katniss!" And then, standing over me is none other than President Snow in his most regal attire, the smell of mingled blood and roses filling my nose and making me sick.

Snow leans down to stroke my hair and I try to pull away but it's impossible. He is smiling slightly as if he's merely faintly amused by the anguish I'm clearly in.

"You should have known Mockingjay that it would eventually come to this. The rebellion is dead and so are all your friends. But you, my dear, are not going to join them. No. I'm going to send you off to District 12 where you will be able to contemplate all that has happened…alone and with no one there to help you through it."

Suddenly, I realize that I'm not an avox. I can speak and I use this opportunity to say with as much disgust as I can muster "I don't care. There's nothing left that you can do to me. You have nothing left to use against me."

Snow smiled. "Oh but that's not true."

And a curtain is pulled back to reveal Peeta Mellark; bruised and bloody and with what looks to be a mockingjay burned into the skin of his chest. Snow turns back to me and whispers "He's alive. For now. I'm going to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself. If you explain to Peeta the truth about how you really feel I may let him live. If you continue to lie to him I will make you watch as he is burned to death where he stands. Tell him Katniss. Tell him the truth."

I look at Peeta who has always been so strong. My heart is crushed to see him like this; broken and battered. But what does Snow want me to say? The truth. The truth about what?

"Peeta" I begin. "Peeta, please hear me. I never wanted any of this to happen. The Games, the lies, the hijacking. None of it. I'm so sorry. About everything."

Peeta tries to look up at me but my face is jerked back to look at President Snow. "Oh my dear, I thought we agreed not to lie to each other." My face is forced back to look at Peeta. And this time Peeta lifts his head up to look at me. I expect to see those warm eyes. Those brilliant eyes of the brightest blue.

Instead, there are dark holes because Peeta Mellark has no eyes.

I scream and I can hear Snow laughing in the distance.

My eyes jerk open and I let out a gasp of fear. I look around and see that I'm not in a white room. I'm in the forest. It was a dream. An awful, soul crushing dream. But a dream nonetheless. For the slightest moment I feel relieved that what I just witnessed wasn't real but almost immediately my heart sinks. What happened earlier today was not a dream; it was real and I find myself crying silently because of my unprovoked rage at Peeta.

I don't know how long I remain in a sitting position on the forest floor but the sun has traveled quite a distance in the sky by the time I decide to move again. I start the cautious walk back to my house because, after all, I am slightly lost even though my uncertain position in the woods is the least of my concerns. This was a wasted trip; I didn't even shoot anything. In fact, I didn't even make an attempt to hunt. My mind keeps wandering to my overreaction to the books Peeta brought back from the Capitol. I really was out of line. There was nothing harmful about those medical books. And if that's the only thing I can be mad at him for than he's practically perfect.

Of course I know that he's not. No, Peeta makes mistakes just like the rest of us. And his skin and mind are scarred form the effects of the Games and the war just like mine are. But the difference between Peeta's flaws and mine are that his biggest mistakes tend to involve helping other people. His large-heartedness is his biggest downfall. My mistakes however, are almost always entirely selfish. I rarely think how my actions are going to affect another person. Not that I never do, it's just rare. But today, my mistake was deeper, I think, than any other I may have committed. The one comfort I take is that Peeta's kind and easygoing nature may cause him to forgive me. And boy do I need his forgiveness.

But there's another part of me that doesn't even want to face him; that can't face him. How do you apologize for something like that? _Hi Peeta. Oh and by the way, I'm sorry about earlier where I basically became the malicious enemy the Capitol told you I was for months. But hey, we're still cool right?_ Yeah; somehow I can't see that going over too well.

But there's another thought that crosses my mind at this point; one that is, in a way, even more frightening than my dream. Before I fell asleep I imagined different people I know reacting to my treatment of Peeta. Haymitch, Greasy Sae, my mother, Peeta himself. It's unnerving to think how real those reactions were, how so very like the real person they were. Haymitch's sarcasm, Sae's exasperation, the cold disappointment in my mother's voice, her reference to my father, and even…even the anger and pain coming from Peeta. It's all I can do not to fall down and start crying again.

It's strange. I almost never cried before. Even when my father died there was only a small amount of crying from me. Then I had to dry those tears and pick up the pieces of my broken family on my own. There was never any time for tears. But since the Hunger Games, especially since the Quarter Quell, crying at random times has become almost second nature to me. But this time I manage to keep myself composed. I have to. If I break down again I may never resurface. Things were just starting to look up too. Peeta was coming back, I was eating again, hunting, bathing. I even started to feel a little bit of happiness inside me. Now all of that is gone, replaced by fear and an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Fortunately, I'm comfortable enough in the woods that in almost no time at all I'm able to find a familiar spot that tells me I won't have to spend the night lost in the woods. I gaze around the area. It's a wide, open space that sort of sticks out in this densely forested place. On either side there are trees and bushes galore but in this one spot, for probably a good hundred yards around, is a clearing with a clear view of the sun and sky above. This wasn't a place I frequented very often when I would hunt with Gale. Like the lake, it was a place my father had shown me and it was a place I liked to keep to myself.

In fact, it's been a good four years since I took the time to find this place; but being here now relaxes me in a way I don't really feel I deserve. It reminds me of better times, like when my father was still with us. He used to take me here to just enjoy the warmth of the sun on nice, late spring days. It was sort of our go between the forest and the lake. Most of our time was spent hunting in the thickly wooded forest but our summers were often spent swimming and gathering roots at the lake. This clearing was our springtime haven. A place where we could lie on our backs and watch the clouds moving through the sky.

I would like to stop here and soak in the rays of warmth that the sun is providing, just like those spring days long ago. But I know I still have a good hour before I make it back to the outskirts of the district and another half hour before I'll be back at the Victor's Village. It's getting late now, probably close to four in the afternoon, and I figure I've got a lot of explaining to do once I get back home.

It would be funny if it weren't so depressing. You would think I was the one who was hijacked, the way my emotions keep changing so rapidly. In the course of a few days I've been miserable, borderline suicidal, hopeful, excited, something resembling happy, then irritated, furious, confused, afraid, and guilty. Who says District 12 was boring?

While I'm making my way through the town square (because I decided I needed more time to think before I got back home) I'm jarred form my own mind by the sound of someone calling my name.

"Katniss! Katniss Everdeen!" It sounds vaguely familiar to me, that voice.

I turn slowly to see a boy about my age running towards me. He has my same dark hair and grey eyes, marking him as being from the Seam. It takes me a minute to place his name but finally I realize who he is. Ashton Coverdale. He was in my year at school and belonged to one of the wealthier families of the Seam, which means they were just under the poverty line. I used to sell my wild onions to his mother at the Hob. I don't think I've seen Ashton since before the Quell so I'm surprised to see him running towards me now.

"Katniss!" he says again. "Where have you been? Everyone says you came back to District 12 but I haven't _seen_ you in months! What's going on? How are you?"

How am I? I'm miserable and tired form all my running, crying, dreaming, and walking I've done today. But I don't say that.

"Oh I'm alright" I lie. I don't feel like I owe Ashton anything. We were never particularly close, although I do remember that he was cool with Gale. And besides, he couldn't possibly relate to the things I feel right now so I really don't feel the need to elaborate. There is one thing I want to know though.

"How did you get out of District 12? I don't remember seeing you in 13." It's true. During all the months I lived in District 13 I never once saw Ashton Coverdale or his family.

Ashton smiled. "You just weren't looking hard enough. I was there. My mother still is, and my little sister too. But I decided to come back here and start over."

For some reason I don't like Ashton's smile. It reminds me too much of Cato, the Career tribute from District 2 from my first Hunger Games. Cato was cocky and carried himself like he was the one to beat. Which was true, but I don't like it when people carry themselves like they're superior, even if they are. Ashton's smile is more like a smirk. One that says "I'm the man. I deserve the attention." How so unlike Peeta.

But I decide that I don't want to burn bridges with another person today so I give a somewhat forced smile and say "I'm glad to hear everyone is doing well."

"Yeah, it's been tough trying to start over. But things are looking up. Thanks to you of course." He shoots me another one of his smirks that makes me uncomfortable; it's as if he's not looking _at_ me but looking right through me. Like I'm some sort of goal that needs to be conquered.

I decide I don't like where this might go so I try to politely excuse myself.

"Well I'm glad things are working out. But I've got to get going. I've got to get cleaned up for dinner and…other things."

Ashton looks nonchalant but again, his superior smirk just gets to me.

"Alright then Katniss. You should stop by house sometime. We can have dinner or something. It must be awful living over there with nothing but a drunk and a lunatic to keep you company."

Whatever I was expecting Ashton to say, it wasn't this. How dare he! How dare he call Haymitch a drunk and Peeta a lunatic! Sure, Haymitch _is_ a drunk but he's also my mentor. One of the only reasons I ever made it through two Games and a war. I may have the right to call Haymitch a drunk but _this guy_ doesn't. He doesn't even know Haymitch! And Peeta…for some reason his comments about Peeta strike a chord deep within me and it's all I can do not to throttle him right here. Peeta _is not _a lunatic. He may be damaged but it's through no fault of his own. And when he's lucid Peeta is still the kindest and sweetest person I've ever met. He has no right to talk about Peeta. And by the way, what exactly is he insinuating, that I should come by his house for dinner? What does he think, that I just share a meal with any guy who comes along? No. No thank you. I'm fine taking my meals just the way they are.

I make sure I frame my answer as coldly as possible.

"No thanks. And don't ever insult Peeta or Haymitch ever again. You have no idea who they are or what they mean to me."

Ashton's smirk disappears for a moment, as if he's genuinely surprised at what I said, but he regains it almost immediately.

"I know that Haymitch Abernathy is the reason 46 District 12 kids died without a shot in hell of winning the Games. Because he was too drunk to help them out or get them sponsors. Younger brothers don't forget."

And suddenly I remember that five years before my first Games Ashton's brother Casey was District 12's boy tribute. Obviously he didn't make it. But still, that gives him no right to be rude, especially about Peeta…

Ashton's smirk deepens. "_And_ I know that watching that whole romance angle between you and Mellark was ridiculous. You don't have any idea how pathetic it was to see that little shopkeeper's son wallow in his _love_ like some stupid puppy. Besides, everybody knows it was just an act, at least on your end. It's obvious you preferred Gale to…"

But whatever Ashton Coverdale was about to say never came out. He was silenced by a hard slap across the face. That felt good. I'd do it again if he gave me the chance.

Instead of looking shocked or hurt, although there's a nice red and white palm mark on his left cheek, he just looks even more self-satisfied then before.

"I can see they're rubbing off on you" he says. "You ought to be careful girl on fire. I'm part of the fire department now. I know how to put out blazes." And with that he turned and walked away.

I can't believe the nerve of that man! No, no not a man. He's _clearly_ still a boy. I know Peeta would never act like that, ever. I don't know when and where Ashton Coverdale became a jerk because I don't remember him being like that before, but it's because of people like that that I'm perfectly content to remain isolated in the Victor's Village for the rest of my life. With people like that moving back into the district, my little life at home is going to be just fine. But first, I need to make peace with Peeta.

It's funny how primal my reaction was to Ashton insulting Peeta. It wasn't just that he was insulting him though. That was bad enough. But it was the way he described my preference for Gale. As if I didn't care about Peeta at all. I'll admit, during and after the first Games I was confused; I didn't know who I preferred. Mainly because I didn't know what Gale and I even had and I wasn't sure until the very end if how Peeta felt about me was even real. But it was real. For both of them.

It's still hard to believe but plain old Katniss Everdeen found herself in the middle of a love triangle between two boys handsome enough and talented enough to win the hearts of any female they desired. But they both desired me.

Both before and during the Quarter Quell I was still somewhat conflicted over which one I wanted more. Gale, with his darkly handsome features and his comforting familiarity? Or Peeta, with his own variety of handsome, winning personality, and comforting sense of humor? But there was no doubt about it, when Peeta and I kissed on the beach there was definitely _something_ there. And now Gale's gone. I can't even think about a relationship with Gale anymore because of the reality of his role in my sister's death and his own selfish concerns afterwards. Peeta though, has never abandoned me when he could help it, and even his warm embrace this morning at the train station spoke volumes of his care for me without even speaking a word.

So for Ashton Coverdale to come in and accuse me of not caring for Peeta is just ridiculous. I probably care more for Peeta than anyone else alive. But then I realize that if that's true, I need to show it. And causing a hijacking induced fit is not the way to go about it. I don't need to necessarily throw myself at him with promises of romance or anything like that. But I do need to show Peeta that I care, if for no other reason than to spite Ashton Coverdale. And because Peeta deserves it. And I really do care. And…maybe there is something there between us. I don't know right now but one thing is certain: I cannot drive Peeta Mellark out of my life. And if that requires apology after apology for the way I acted, if that requires me to get out of my own way and be the support that Peeta needs then so be it. And I can hear Haymitch's voice in my mind:

"_You could live a thousand years and not deserve him._"

He's right. I don't deserve Peeta. But for some reason, understood only to himself, he loves me. And I'm determined to love him back. What that completely means even I don't know. But if it's for Peeta, I know it will be worth it.

xXx

Dinner that night is a subdued affair, although not entirely un-enjoyable. I searched out Peeta as soon as I returned home and as expected, Haymitch gave me a talking to. But I did apologize. I apologized more profusely then ever in my life and I believe that Peeta forgave me. He wrapped his arms around me and thanked me at least. It's still a little awkward sharing a table with Peeta and Haymitch (Greasy Sae declined my invitation to stay for dinner herself) but it isn't unbearable.

Peeta has explained some of what he experienced during his therapy in the Capitol, about how his brain was affected by the hijacking. Fortunately, Peeta is making rapid progress and Dr. Aurelius is hopeful that with the proper medicine, time, and a calm emotional environment he could be recovered enough to have his flashbacks be limited to only once or twice a year. I wish there was a way for him to be completely cured but apparently the hijacking is irreversible in its entirety. Like cancer it can be treated, not cured.

It's while Peeta is rattling off the names of some of the drugs they tried him on that I'm seized by a sudden desire to take Peeta's head into my arms and pull him close to my heart. Just to let him know that it's ok now. That he doesn't need to worry anymore. That I'm here for him. But I stop myself because for one thing, Haymitch is still here and for another, I'm not sure I'm ready to do something like that. You don't just come out of a month long depression and then act like everything is normal. No, there's a lot of work to be done if I want to reach that level of closeness with Peeta again.

Dinner however, is superb. Venison stew with carrots and potatoes topped with thick gravy and warm, buttery bread specially baked by Peeta. As part of his therapy Dr. Aurelius has ordered that Peeta do things that make him happy and so Peeta has promised to shower me and Haymitch in baked goods for the foreseeable future.

After about an hour Haymitch excuses himself and heads off to his own house. Greasy Sae has already left leaving Peeta and I alone together for the first time since our disastrous encounter this morning. I'm feeling very nervous and I hope Peeta isn't afraid I might fly off the handle again. But Peeta looks all smiles as he says "Do you want any help with the dishes?" I look to the sink. There aren't many left. Sae cleaned the bulk of them before she left. All that remains are our dinner plates and silverware.

I shake my head and say "No thanks Peeta. But thank you for your offer. But _you_ have just gotten back home so I don't want to stress you out too much; I've already caused you enough trouble today."

"It's no trouble Katniss. I don't mind."

He's so earnest I have no trouble believing him. But no, I have to put my foot down.

"No Peeta. I can manage them. Just…just promise you won't be a stranger alright? I'm really glad you're back and I'm sorry about earlier. Maybe we can…do something together one of these days. Like…" I don't know. What can I do with Peeta?

"I think hunting's out of the question" he says. "I seem to remember you telling me that I was too loud and that I scared off game."

He's right. Even before his prosthetic leg Peeta was unnaturally loud in the forest.

"We'll think of something" I say.

"Katniss?" Peeta looks pained. As if he's carrying such an enormous burden.

"Yeah?"

Peeta takes a deep breath and says "I'm sorry about Gale. Haymitch told me. I know…I know he was special to you. I just hope you'll be alright."

You would think I might feel a little more regret about Gale. Especially since this is Peeta talking. But I don't. Gale is such a thing of the past now that he almost doesn't seem real. District 2 is almost as far away from District 12 as the Capitol; a world away as far as I'm concerned.

"I'm fine Peeta. Really I am. I can't pretend that I don't miss Gale a little. But it's not like before. I'm just glad you're back. Now that you're here it's almost like…" Dare I say it?

I don't want to lead Peeta on anymore; I did enough of that during our first Games. I don't want to give him any false hope of a future that I'm not sure I can handle. And I don't want to write Gale off as if he doesn't matter either. He'll always be an important part of my childhood. But then I think of the bombs, Gale's selfishness, his complete lack of contact since the end of the war, and his vengeful purpose compared to Peeta's kind protection.

"It's almost like Gale never mattered all that much."

Wow, that was a big step. I can see it in Peeta's face; he's shocked. So am I if it comes to it. But there's more of me that agrees with my statement then disagrees. Gale is a part of my past. Not my present and probably not my future. And I'm fine with that. My heart hurts less to think of never seeing Gale again than never seeing Peeta.

But that's all I can say for now. I can't go any further. Perhaps Peeta understands this because he smiles at me sweetly and nods his head toward me.

"Good night Katniss."

"Good night Peeta."

And then he's gone. I find myself staring out my window at his retreating form and then at his house long after he's gone inside. It's hard to believe how much has changed in just the two days since Haymitch told me Peeta was on his way back. But there feels like there's something in the air now. Maybe it's just the renewal of life associated with spring. Maybe it's just emotion over Peeta's return. Maybe it's both or maybe it's more. Whatever it is though, I feel sure it forebodes something good. After all, things could hardly get worse than they've been, right? I'm certain that they can't.

I'm alive, Peeta's here, and the war is over. There are no more Hunger Games and no more Capitol. Well, the Capitol is very different now anyway. Perhaps this is the opportunity I've been waiting for to start over fresh.

Perhaps, for once, the odds actually are in my favor.


End file.
